


What will never be

by shyasamouse



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Battle of Five Armies Fix-It, M/M, Stream of Consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-09
Updated: 2014-09-09
Packaged: 2018-02-16 17:16:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2278107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shyasamouse/pseuds/shyasamouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last time he had seen him had been many years ago, decades even. A parting farewell, stiff and formal, the events of the months before hanging like a dark cloud over their heads, obscuring their words and tangling meanings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What will never be

**Author's Note:**

> A drabble about what could have happened if the Durins were not killed in the BOFA. Not happy.

He leaned against the hard curved ground behind his back. The sun warmed his skin and he felt the aching of old joints slowly dissipate. Just being out here in the light and gentle breezes soothed him and he felt more relaxed than he had in weeks. 

The pain in his back had not helped him calm during the day. Bending over a desk was slowly ruining his spine and the endless writing made his fingers curl into themselves, although he supposed it could have also been happening because he was old now. Before, when he'd been younger and strong, he'd never thought about getting old. The days when his back would crack and his knees would creak had seemed so far away. Yet he was here now, older than many of people ever reached.

He lit his pipe and watched the smoke curl smoothly away from him. A faint wisp of it drifted away into the distance and as he watched it, his thoughts turned to other things than age. Age was nothing new, a constant complaint that had been worn down soft from years of use. 

From his perch, he could see much of the land around him. For a second he wondered if it would be possible to spy the Misty Mountains from here but then pushed the thought away. No, he would not see that far, not with his old eyes and even if he were young, the clouds and trees would obscure the distant peaks anyway. 

No, it was no use wondering about silly things. Silly things that would never come to be. The past was the past and nothing would happen now, not so long after the main events. His chance had passed, he had made a mess of it and now he paid the price.

He was alone. Oh not truly, there were people all around him, family and friends. He could call on any one of them to accompany him and they would do so willingly. But the person he wished for, had yearned for, was many longs years gone away and would never come here, not to visit him. 

The last time he had seen him had been many years ago, decades even. A parting farewell, stiff and formal, the events of the months before hanging like a dark cloud over their heads, obscuring their words and tangling meanings. An apology had climbed up his throat but the fear of rejection, of hate, had kept it from reaching his tongue. He had wanted to embrace him, to hold him close one more time but the look in his eyes had stopped him in his tracks. There was nothing between them now.

There had been no letters from him. Yes, there was still news from the others but no direct contact. His chance had slipped through his fingers and there was no going back. 

He was old. Too much older and he would be dead. There wasn't much fear in that now. He'd done more than he'd ever dreamed of accomplishing, now death would be a welcome journey. His only regret was one many years buried. 

The mountains were there, in the distance, though he could not see them. And past the mountains would be where he was, would be the home where he lived. But he could not travel there. Why should he be welcome there after what he had done so many years ago? No, he could not go. It would be folly. 

In his dreams, he had not left. They were together, as they would never be in life. They spent their days with each other, in a pleasant haze of companionship and friendliness. Soft kisses on foreheads and into messy hair, hands tangled in another. It hurt to think of what would never be, no matter how much he fantasized about it. 

Perhaps, in another life, it did exist. In another life, they had actually talked and had sorted their differences and made up without excessive arguments. In another life, they had learned to live with each other and grown old together. But this life was all he had. 

One more glance out into the world spread out in front of him. So many possibilities he had never explored. There was an itch in his feet, to return there and see what could be done. To try his best to make something of what was left of his time. 

But there were responsibilities here. Ones he could not just drop, not yet. And when he could leave without consequences, it would be too late for him to make it across those mountains again. 

“Uncle?” His duties were calling to him now. He sat up, bracing himself on the high ground behind him to lift his body up. His knees didn't listen to him very well anymore. Getting back to his room would take some time and he moved slowly, unwilling to push himself any faster than necessary. The time for rushing was over. 

“Uncle?” Kíli called one more time, rounding the corner and coming forward to grip his uncle's arm. He led Thorin into the mountain gently, back to meetings and councils. 

The King under the Mountain disappeared into the depths of Erebor as the morning sun slipped quietly past the horizon and vanished from the sky.


End file.
